


First Kisses

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Childhood Friends, First Kisses, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 10:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14788682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Gladio had plenty of kisses during his rambunctious youth. Noctis was the first though.





	First Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> For Gladio Fluff Week, over at Tumblr

His first kiss had been Noctis. Technically. 

They had been kids, and playing some game together when they were too young to really understand what they were meant to be to each other. When they were still small enough that Noctis saw him as a playmate, rather than a Shield; launching himself with all the childish exuberance that could be mustered is such a small body. Gladiolus remembered those days well. 

He remembered the days when the Citadel had seemed so large around him, the adults towering over him like statues in their finery and uniforms. He remembered the day Noctis was presented— a bit. He remembered the balloons and the streamers and the smiles on his father’s face as he was lifted to peek into the arms of the queen. There wasn’t much other than that, just the flurry of activity and excitement, and a whole mess of sweets and laughter that had marked the day as a happy one. They were just glimpses of memories— the Lucian greys, the soft Astral blues, the shine of everything and the noise of the adults. 

The memories of them growing up together were much more vivid. 

There had been bright, sunny days when he was led out to the Citadel gardens, up to the quiet nurseries and day rooms. There were long nights spent on carpeted library and study floors, sneaking treats and picture books while their fathers talked in hushed, rushed tones. 

Things had changed after that. 

He remembered when Noctis was eight, and didn’t come home after a day out at a beach in the quiet green parks that curled around the edge of the southern bay. He remembered his father rushing in the evening out of the house, on the phone and barking orders not to let the king out of sight. He remembered waking the next morning and asking his mother what had happened, if everything was okay, and learning that Noctis had been taken to a hospital. 

He remembered the long weeks when the royals were away in Tenebrae, and the way his father phoned home every day to talk to him and Iris, too young to remember the absence. 

At the time, he had resented Noctis for taking his father away like that. For whole weeks. Months. Taking him from the safety of their home and coming back with new scars. 

But his first kiss had been in that innocence of childhood. Technically. 

It had been a peck to Noctis’ forehead in apology while the young prince slept. And the promise made with it that he’d be a better Shield. Good enough to keep this sort of thing from happening. 

He didn’t actually think it counted. 

Not when he forgot most of that affection when he was away for school at the Academy. Not when he had let himself get distracted by Amy, who was in the same year as him. And Elliott, who had the nicer smile when he was thirteen. 

Not when he had started to worry that the prince he was meant to follow, to swear fealty to, was lazy and spoilt. Another rich brat who wouldn’t lift a hand to help those who needed it. Not when he had started to resent the boy that had replaced his friend. 

He considered Ignis his first real kiss. Even after the shy first dates and quiet dramas of school.

They had bonded over their frustrations with Noctis. When he was a quiet kid, when he was floundering and lost, trapped somewhere between duty and neglect and the weight of a kingdom rushing down to crush him. When they were both worried that none of them could live up to the legacy left by their forebears— kings and warriors and the sages leading Lucis through war. 

Ignis had been there when they both just wanted to feel like humans again. 

It had started with bitching and drinks; beating on each other in the training rooms when Noctis was in school and Ignis had an hour to spare and an hour to vent. They had come together under the same stresses, with the same, quick movements that had them each sprawling across the polished stone floors, the practice weapons flung aside as one or the other landed and laughed at the clever trick, the brute force, the relief of not needing to be careful. 

He thought he loved Ignis. 

That clipped tone that hid the warmth beneath. That posture and smile— the steel in the man’s back and the depth of affection in his eyes. He had thought that he loved Ignis in those years they had. When they were young and frustrated, and didn’t know any better. 

In the end, it was an amicable parting. 

Ignis had wanted space, Gladio had wanted focus. They worked well together, and the casual offer was there. 

Prompto was a ray of sunlight compared to Noctis. There had been one kiss, before Noct was on him like a fury. Before Noct was testing every intention and affection while Prompto just laughed and teased. While Prompto had dragged Noct away, but kept line for line with Gladio as they spilt as much innuendo as drinks between them one night. 

In the end, Prompto was confused. And Gladio respected the kid too much to push for an answer. It hadn’t been meant for them at that time. Not while they were still both young and dumb. They fell into easy lockstep together— the bundle of energy to pull Noctis out into the world, to encourage half-baked plans and adventures. Gladio there to encourage and push and laugh as Noctis found his footing. 

And then there was Noctis. 

There was always Noctis. 

Gladio knew that he could never escape the brat. Not that he wanted to. 

He had sat with Noctis on the bad days, when the humidity and damp of spring and summer storms seeped into old wounds and Noctis just wanted to stay in bed for the pain. He had sat, reading to the prince stretched out across his lap, one hand easing the stress and knots out of muscles— soothing what pain he could with touch and distraction and voice, while Noctis dozed in peace. He had read through short stories and long novels, recounted textbooks he had found interesting and refreshed himself on Citadel reports. Never leaving Noctis’ side for longer than necessary to gather up a heated pillow or a glass of water. With the reminder of far darker days in every slow movement and whine of discomfort, and the offer of “get the chair” left unsaid between them. Neither one wanting the reminder of the first weeks Noctis was home from Tenebrae, when steps were slow and pained as he struggled under the weight of the world trying to kill him. 

He had moved, from sofa to bed and back, with Noctis in his arms; light steps around Ignis even as they shared their own kiss over Noctis’ protesting groans and dramatic declarations.

He had followed Noctis on the quiet days— when his temperament and mood got the better of him. He had spent hours just walking by Noctis’ side as the prince paced the streets in sullen worry, his mind racing with the future, with his fate, with the image of his family legacy burning away. He offered companionship in those long walks, not guiding or directing, but keeping careful track of their path in case Noctis looked up from the pavement and found himself amid the neon ravines of the city. 

Some of those days had taken them to Prompto, where the blond would sit in his lap as they shared a pizza, and Noctis would try to ignore the easy affection. Teasing and jokes would distract from whatever sullen mood had started the day, and Gladio would fall into step behind the other two like a shadow on the way home; back to the comforts of the apartment. 

When “you okay” transitioned from a soft question to a reassurance, Gladio’s confidence seeped into the statement as Noctis offered up a grin and nod and they ignored the leftovers in the fridge in favour of something else and messy. 

And there were the good days. 

There were days when they weren’t Shield and Prince— when they weren’t their stations or expectations. When they could acknowledge that they were beyond that. That they were friends first and foremost. That they enjoyed hanging out, talking, Gladio learning skills important to Noctis and vice versa. There were days when Ignis wasn’t called over to spend time with them, when plans with Prompto were delayed for the evening. 

When Gladio had Noctis to himself for a time. 

And there was the day that had built up between them. 

“What are you doing?”

“Trying something.”

Noctis had tried something risky in training. He had used a touch of his magic before he was meant to— warping successfully before he was trained to. He had always been steps ahead in those innate powers, and always steps behind Gladio in the more practical movements and skills. But Gladio was always there to catch him. 

He was there as the sword Noctis used as a focus point slipped— scratched at the target rather than embedded itself. He was there as Noctis started the fall and recovery, as he tried to right himself and time slowed to a crawl. As Gladio caught the full weight of his prince, pressed back by the impact as they both hit the hard stone of the training room floor. As their weapons clattered away and Gladio’s arms wrapped around the prince in a protective hug rather than brace them both for the fall. 

“What the hell were you doing?”

“Did you see?”

“I saw you being an idiot! What the hell, Noct? That was thirty feet up.”

He was reluctant to let Noctis up, to let the kid get ideas to repeat the warping experiment. But the grin was infectious. Noctis’ beaming pride at his own skill something shared just between them for now. 

When Noctis kissed him, Gladio didn’t hesitate to return it. He didn’t think twice about it, or wonder if it was a bad idea. The idea that he had been Noctis’ first kiss came later when they had the moments of quiet to actually think over what had just happened.


End file.
